The Game Begins
by Never Walk
Summary: Before a game, Flint dreams of Wood. In response to contrelamontre's three senses challenge. Was PG, but recently got a violent shove in the R direction.
1. The Game

Title: The Game Begins  
  
Author: Never  
  
Pairing: Marcus/Oliver  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Warning: Only thoughts of Flint's nasty teeth.  
  
Summary: Before a game, Flint dreams of Wood.  
  
Author's Notes: In response to three senses challenge.  
  
***  
Flint rubbed his finger along the smooth wood of his Nimbus 2001 broomstick. Wood. Almost everything reminded him of Wood, Oliver Wood. Although this particular object wasn't terribly hard to connect to that surreal Gryffindor.  
  
The Slytherin Captain stepped onto the pitch for the quidditch game against those pathetic Gryffindors and their beautiful captain. A slight breeze brushed up against his face as Wood flew by, throwing a smirk back to archrival. At least, that's how Flint assumed that Wood would describe him, and their relationship.  
  
Asking Flint would give a completely different answer. The Slytherin secretly worshipped Oliver. Dreamed of running his fingers through that soft, silky brown hair. Carefully study his entire body until he knew it all by heart. Lick off every drop of sweat, taking in the very essence of Wood. Breathe him in. Flint wanted to do everything to Wood; everything with Wood.  
  
Marcus mounted his broom and joined the others in the air. Making one quick lap, he took his position among his teammates, all the while stealing glances at the opposing Keeper. As soon as the game began, Flint would be free to approach those three hoops, and he couldn't wait. A whistle screech pierced his ears. And the game begins. 


	2. A Shower and a Voyeur

Oliver replayed every second of the game in his head while he rubbed his soapy hands over his body. The hot jet of the showerhead rinsed off the suds as his hand lowered of its own accord. Just thinking about that sexy Slytherin had him hard.  
  
It still amazed him that he could be attracted to Flint. At first glance, yes, Marcus was as far from handsome as someone could be. But there was something about the way he watched Oliver with hooded eyes. Wood knew that it was those eyes, those intense eyes that had first captured him. Calculating eyes that told him he belonged to someone and always would.  
  
And Oliver accepted that. It excited him to know that he was Flint's, although nothing had happened yet, but it would soon. Wood pumped himself in the shower, as he had been doing much too often lately, whispering Marcus's name over and over again. This had to stop. Oliver had to do something, and being the brave Gryffindor, he knew what had to be done.  
  
Reaching his climax, he came, eyes shut, imagining the Slytherin captain. After that, he had to wash himself again, and the second time, he tried not to get hard. Finishing up, he dried off and got dressed. He threw all of his things into his bag, taking special care with his uniform. A grin crossed his face as he thought about the victory today. Oliver swore that he could almost smell Flint on his uniform, however, that was ludicrous. Still, Wood inhaled the scent of his uniform once more before placing it in his bag and heading back towards the castle.  
  
Oliver walked right past the hidden Flint, continuing towards Hogwarts. Marcus took a moment to lick his lips at the thought of Wood muttering his name while jerking off in the shower, then followed. However, it was difficult to walk, seeing how he was completely aroused. His right hand tried to push down his erection but that particular beast refused to be put down. Finally, he gave up and quickly milked himself, remembering the vision he had of Oliver in the quidditch locker room. It only took a few minutes for Flint to explode on his hand. Immediately, he cleaned himself up and chased after Wood, anticipating the moment he would catch his personal Golden Snitch. 


	3. What to do?

***Sorry this took so long and that it's so short. I seem to fight myself when I write on this. I don't know what's wrong with me. I usually write mostly dialogue, but somehow, that doesn't fit these two. They seem more like action men. I'm a slave to their desires, but I can't give up without a fight.***  
  
Oliver sat at the Gryffindor table, laughing at the Weasley twins, as usual. Shaking his head, he reached down to his plate to pick up a piece of chicken and pop it into his mouth. He reached for his cup, but noticed that some grease had gotten on his fingers. Not wanting his beverage to slip out of his hands, he slowly licked his fingers clean, one by one. First taking the whole digit between his lips then removing it, just to meticulously run his tongue along the warm, wet flesh.  
  
None of the other Gryffindors noticed the sensual act, however, one Slytherin did. Flint had been studying Wood for days after seeing him in the quidditch locker room. Still not knowing how best to approach the object of his obsession, Marcus kept his distance, content only to watch.  
  
But something needed to be done. The only question was what. Well, what and when. Glancing down at his plate, Marcus speared his potatoes. Then, upon hearing more laughter from the Gryffindor table, looked up to see his Oliver chuckling again at the Weasley's expense.  
  
Smiling, Wood turned to that do-good Potter to talk. What Flint wouldn't give to be able to hear their conversation. Or at least, read lips. That little twat was leaning in to whisper something in Oliver's ear with a hand laying intimately on his shoulder, and Marcus had to stop himself from running across the Great Hall and beating the whelp to a pulp. No one should ever be that close to Oliver. No one but him.  
  
However, the closeness didn't last long as Wood moved away, returning his attention to those two redheads. Thankfully Oliver seemed to be uneasy with how Harry had just acted.  
  
Suddenly, all of Marcus' thoughts fled his mind as Oliver turned towards the Slytherin table. For one brief moment, their eyes collided, and everyone else disappeared. But that annoying Golden Boy interrupted it by tapping on Wood's shoulder, drawing his attention.  
  
Flint released the breath that he had been holding, taking comfort in the blush that spread across Oliver's cheeks. 


End file.
